


do not remember the past

by clexad



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clexad/pseuds/clexad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over 1k words of Clarke questioning herself after what she's done in Mt Weather and thinking about the past. One minor change -- she didn't leave the camp after the finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do not remember the past

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here's a oneshot that's probably more of a meta. I just wanted to write something sad-ish and include some Clexa, so here it is. As always, kudos and comments are very appreciated!

Clarke wakes up.

She feels sad and alone, like something inside of her has been broken, stomped into a thousand pieces. She knows  _exactly_ what it is. She claps her eyelashes together a few times and looks around the small tent she'd been taken to by one of the others. It had almost nothing inside but her jacket and shoes that she didn't remember taking off.

What she did yesterday was only on her. She got lost in thoughts for a few minutes, and the guilt from what she's done suddenly pours over her shoulders, hugging her like old friends that she hasn't seen for months.

She regrets it.

_Of course she does._

Nobody knows how much she regrets it but her. Not even Bellamy, even if he'd actually helped her pull the lever. The people, her people saw her crime as something  _heroic,_ something she had to do. But, no,  _no, there had to be another way._ There always is. It's too late to think about that, anyway. She  hears noises outside, and shakes her head. People are laughing, celebrating. Clarke can't help but smile at others' happiness, but soon realizes that she doesn't deserve to celebrate with them. Not after what she had done. All those people,  _children,_ had done nothing to her. Not this time.

She just wants it to be over. Maybe for some grounder to kill her on a hunt, free her off her misery, feel the sweet release of death.

She's still thinking. Abby peeks her head through the camp and offers Clarke to get dressed, come outside, maybe eat something. Enjoy. So many children had found their parents today, thanks to her. But she knows what Clarke's done. She knows how Clarke must feel. A familiar feeling washes over her as her mind clutters with the last expressions of the people who sacrificed their lives in the culling, or her husband's death, both of which were her responsibility to stop. She sighs, and without expecting a reply, goes out of the tent again.

Clarke comes out soon enough, moving across the camp like a ghost, unsure of her intentions. Just walking. People cheer when they see her, some even try to hug her, but without success. Children run towards her and exclaim something about how they want to be like her, but Clarke can only tell them that  _no, they don't._ She passes everyone who tries to talk to her without saying a word, only smiling in a fake way.

The others can see her, but she feels invisible.

There weren't too many people at the camp, and Clarke knew that, but it felt like there were thousands around her, not allowing her to breathe, walk. She never actually found the time to look around the place, so now seemed like the perfect time to try to distract herself by doing just that. The sky was clear, and the sun was shining like there was no tomorrow. Clarke walked around in circles, paying attention to how the camp was designed, who had actually made it to Earth, if there was anyone she knew. 

Probably not.

Nobody who's ever talked to her ever survives, anyway. 

Maybe she was just cursed. Cursed with something that took away all the people close to her, one by one; her dad, Wells, Finn... She'd rather not count. 

After an hour of pointless walking, Clarke realizes that she had gotten out of Camp Jaha. The road was endless and long, but the blonde felt like it calmed her down. Still, sadness pours over her again and manages to overtire her in a matter of seconds, so she decides to sit underneath one of the tall trees, and she starts observing the nature around her. She remembers her own words when she first arrived, 'sure is pretty, though'. No matter how much she said it before, she could never call anything in the woods  _pretty_ now. No. It was only a bloodbath, a war zone. She feels a tear stream down her cheek. S he's killed 250 people yesterday, and, no, this feeling is never going away.

It felt like the woods understood her pain, when some of the leaves on the tree she was sitting underneath started fluttering down, landing on her head. She brushes off the leaves with her hand, and looks up at the sky.

She tries to remember what it used to be like a few years ago, when they were back on the Ark, and none of the engineering faults had been discovered yet. She remembered her father's face as clear as day, and now the tears were coming down like a stream she couldn't stop. But this time, she was crying silently, without a noise.

No, she needed to remember something else.  _Someone_ else.

Finn.

The thought of Finn never actually left Clarke's mind. It was always there, like she had it tattooed on the back of her head. When they first arrived, Clarke could never imagine that she would fall for the boy with the long, dark brown hair and the beanie that she never actually saw him took off on the Ark (given that she'd only seen him once or twice). She loved him. But he died because of her, too. Just like everybody else. Now, she just has no one. Maybe it's better that way.

She hears her own quiet, muffled breaths. She didn't want him to die. She didn't want anyone to die. she could probably save her dad, too, if she helped like she had promised to. Putting the blame on mom was too easy, and so unlike Clarke.

She feels like she's spent too long here, and slowly stands up again, trying to shake off the one tear from her cheek.

She's not fine. She's tired. And not in the 'she-just-needs-some-sleep' sort of way. She starts walking again, and feels like there's something she's forgotten.

And then there's Lexa.

She was sure she saw a tear somewhere on Lexa's cheek before she left. Maybe it was just an illusion. Clarke didn't know, but she wanted to believe. She couldn't forgive Lexa, but she wanted to. She knew she had to do it. It's what she would have done. or any goof leader. 

If she was honest, if Lexa came to her right now and apologized, Clarke would forgive her in a heartbeat. But she was too stubborn to admit it. It was too late, anyway.

Yes, Lexa was a good leader, but a good leader knows when it is best to free oneself from emotion and when not to. But she didn't care. Still, Clarke wanted to believe that there was maybe something inside of their that feels guild for what she's done.

Maybe she's in  P olis now, happy,  c elebrating. She got her people back, after all. It seemed like nothing else truly mattered to her. Not even Clarke.

Maybe.

Just maybe, Lexa is somewhere in there, too, sitting down, thinking about the same things.

Clarke wished she could just fall asleep and not wake up.

She is woken up by a soft, worried voice.

"Hello, Clarke." Hums a woman whose hands were cupping Clarke's face when she woke up. She was wearing a hood that covered her face and hair. Clarke shakes her head and looks up to see who the mysterious woman was.

"Lexa?"

 


End file.
